Magic Attractions
by aekuntz
Summary: Ten years later, Tomoyo's newest film suddenly throws her life into a comical mess when her producer is none other than Eriol Hiiragizawa. EriolxTomoyo! [incomplete]
1. Prolonging Summer

(disclaimer): CCS is owned by CLAMP.

**notes**: this fanfiction begins some time after the series was finally mangled off air. All characters have aged 10 years, you do the math. This prologue is set in England, an amusing conversation between two guardians.

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>>**Prolonging Summer**

"I am so bored!" The sudden outburst briefly disturbed the quiet peace of the library. Shelves lined with Chinese manuscripts rippled at the noise, as if they had been woken from a peaceful resting.

Spinel hardly looked up from his book, disregarding Nakuru's comment as she lay stretched out on the nearby sofa. She was gazing out the window, perhaps dreaming of boys or hoping something exciting would drop from the sky. Nothing did, and Nakuru continued to complain as she sprawled on the davenport. The weather was moody and gray, not unusual for England.

The past two months had been dead in the Hiiragizawa mansion. With the absence of Eriol, who had abruptly gone overseas, the household atmosphere turned lazy and still with boredom.

The creature, Spinel Sun, missed his dear master a great deal. He had not been informed of Eriol's quick disappearance and neither Nakuru. The only soul who might possibly know of his whereabouts would be Kaho, but none of them had seen her for years. That is, since Eriol and Kaho stopped dating.

Kaho Mizuki would occasionally stop by after the breakup, calming down Nakuru's whining with the explaination that the relationship was impossible to continue. Eriol on the other hand, insisted for months that Kaho only needed time, but she would eventually come back to him.

That ordeal ended right after Eriol's voice finally stopped cracking and deepened to a mature tone. Gods know how frustrated _that_ made the boy.

Ten years had flown by since the clow cards and Sakura Kinomoto was officially the new mistress of such. For years, Eriol paced about the house, raging that England was too boring, toying with his own small magic, and missing Kaho. Eventually Eriol had shipped himself off to Oxford and they rarely saw him. He only returned home on the summers, but stayed holidays at the college.

This summer had been a strange exception. Spinel's distinct memory recalled that brisk London day, when he had been innocently floating by master's bedroom and noticed Eriol was packing clothes and not the other way around.

>>

**_flashback_****_…_**

'Master?' Spinel had politely suspended about the doorway. 'Haven't you just returned home?'

'Ah yes, Spinel.' Eriol's eyes had lit up with a curious cheer that Spinel had not seen for years. 'I thought a vacation from this dreary place would be nice, for a change.'

Spinel raised what little eyebrow he had, 'Where would that be?'

'If I told you,' Eriol grinned 'It wouldn't be a vacation, now would it? I've already finished my fourth term at Oxford, so I though I'd fly overseas and visit a few friends.'

'Are you coming back?' Spinel asked in slight jest. He knew master would never intentionally abandon his guardians.

'In due time," He responded quietly, 'I suppose I will return for winter festivities and such. People are expectant that I show myself for Christmas and New Years.'

**_…flashback_**

**_>> _**

That was where the conversation ended. Spinel remembered being dismissed so packing could be finished, and then the next morning, Eriol was gone. Nakuru had been wild with concern when she had found out. Out of the two household members, Nakuru had obviously taken worst to the news. She ranted about the house, finding excuses to perform the oddest chores. For example, spending two days baking nothing but tarts and pies. Then again, she never had anything to do on her summers.

Spinel also disliked this particular season. Not only was the weather not summer appropriate, it was also filled the streets with children running around and causing commotion. Their immature antics drove the creature foolish, and he thought if the world were flat, he would surly scurry off the edge.

"Suppi? Are you listening to me?"

Nakuru's obnoxious voice broke his string of thoughts. A small blush crept up Spinel's cat-like face and his ears flattened. He refused to look up from his book, and retorted, "Your shriek could be heard in Bangladesh, Ruby Moon.."

Nakuru childishly threw a pillow backwards at Spinel. Missing its directed target, the pillow landed on the wood flooring. She turned over onto her stomach, moaning into the couch cushions. She raised her head over the cushion, her eyes pitiful. "Suppi—"

"Why don't you go bother your coffee-shop coworkers?" Spinel suggested, not bothering to hide his annoyance.

"I could..." She rolled onto her back and tugged at a tendril of hair, "Colin and Brian are just so yummy! But both of them are working and their boss frightens me!"

"Probably because you interrupt their business days by constantly cooing over the poor chaps."

He received a disgruntled 'harumph' from the couch direction.

"Oooh!" Nakuru flung her arms around, "I wish Eriol was here! At least he'd help out around the house..."

The creature looked up offended, "Its not my fault I have no opposable thumbs. Having such useless pads for paws makes page-turning a horrid task." Nakuru had no reply, but simply bounded off the sofa and ran toward the oak library doors. "Where are you going?" Spinel slowly asked. Nakuru briskly replied, "I'm going to the kitchen," a beat, "to make cookies."

Spinel licked his paw and turned the page. He had finished re-reading how Chinese theorist, Mao Zedong created communist ideas from Marxism and Leninism. He closed the 1976 textbook and nudged open another entitled; Buddhism. The cat creature sighed in content, wondering if he'd ever tire of Gandhi's travels. He highly doubted it.

Wind blew restlessly outside the glass windows, the London suburban life went about its dreary pattern as before.

>>


	2. Office Days and Mothers Not Behaving

(disclaimer): CCS is owned by CLAMP.

* * *

**>> **

**Office Days and Mothers Not Behaving**

Sauntering into the ninth floor production office, Tomoyo Daidouji graced the personnel with her radiating beauty… Well, more or less she scampered off the elevator shaft looking rather flustered but beautiful none the less. She dressed simply in a coordinating dark pin stripped woman's suit with matching heels. Her hair was still gorgeous and long, trailing down her back in a French braid.

The office secretary, Miki, gave Tomoyo a grateful look. Behind the secretary's desk, through two stained glass doors, a full conference was in motion—but they were missing one significant person: Daidouji.

"Just in time, Tomoyo," Miki said as the tall director walked past the desk. Tomoyo's pearly teeth glittered, "Aren't I always?" she started while juggling several portfolios.

A counter full of unhealthy breakfast foods stood nearby, and Tomoyo chose a glazed donut from an open box. She looked at the coffee machine wishfully, but her hands were already full as it were. "You're looking well today Miki. How is the baby doing?"

Miki patted her stomach gingerly and blushed, "Three weeks and still healthy."

Tomoyo took a big bite of donut, "It's amazing, a month in, and still keeping that figure!"

"Hey," Miki grinned, "I'm not packing down donuts like the rest, but you still manage to keep a size three." She gave Tomoyo's body an envious nod before she rang the office. "Kumai-san? Daidouji has just entered the office. Would you like me to send her in?"

"Dozo. Please." A curt voice answered. Tomoyo shoved the rest of the sweet dough into her mouth then wiping her sticky fingers against the inside hem of her suit.

Tomoyo gave Miki's desk a confidant pat then pulled open the doors. Several executives looked up from their leather seats around the monstrous table. A few younger men dressed casually, their hair rumpled as if they had just woken. One of these men, who had been standing in front, came around the table to her.

"Kumai," she nodded, and he gently touched the small of her back, ushering her forward. "Daidouji-san! So glad you could make it," he said through clenched teeth, "we were just discussing the finishing plans of filming time."

"Oh, yes." Tomoyo ran ahead and dropped her portfolio on the table.

"Daidouji." An executive addressed from his chair, "What do you say to our budget proposal and set release date? We believe February is a reasonable."

"That's just to get what's filmed to the editors, right?" Tomoyo sorted through the stacks of papers, wisps of hair falling over her framed face. "Seven months for shooting, three for effects and revision?"

"Correct." Another said.

"Well, I suppose that will do. We'll need a bigger budget though, our requested actors won't settle for last offer."

"And who are these actors?" The third man said, his suit clinging to his big body mass. "What wages do they want settlement for?"

"Kinomoto Sakura." Tomoyo immediately responded, her best friend coming first to mind. Sakura had been nearly dragged by Tomoyo into the entertainment industry. Her kawaii looks easily got her into a wealthy modeling agency. "I believe it is fair, considering the scheduling of her model runs. She's earned more yen in other productions."

"And who else?"

Tomoyo sighed, a pained look on her face, "Several other celebrities which we are having trouble contacting. Our main lead, Thomas, hasn't returned from Switzerland yet. But his personal Japanese agent contacted us and reminded our producer that he'd requested a bit more."

"Thank you Daidouji." Setsuya Kumai interrupted. He ran his fingers across his buzz cut. His hair bristling against the skin. Tomoyo had to hold back laughter, Sakura herself had always said he looked like Japanese monkey. It was not an exaggeration.

Setsuya continued briefing the executives on budget, while Tomoyo found her thoughts flowing elsewhere. In particular, Setsuya Kumai.

Luckily, she observed him walked around the conference table, it wasn't his looks that Tomoyo had eventually loved him for. The two had worked together before on film productions. Setsuya was a wonderful screenwriter and Tomoyo was the lovely and willing director. This made them wonderfully compatible. A year had gone since they had started dating.

Fresh out of junior college, Tomoyo had first gone to directing, a position where she felt free to express her most beloved passion. Filming Sakura. Since Sakura had become the Mistress of the Clow, there was nothing left for Tomoyo. Sure, she captured shots when they went to Hong Kong to visit Syaoran. The day he returned to Japan with a wedding proposal for Sakura, was also memory caught on camera. Unfortunately, she was kicked out of the room by Syaoran when he did the actually proposing.

For three years, Tomoyo had accomplished two major movies featuring Sakura-chan and this would be her third. Excited as she was, Tomoyo couldn't help but feel that same lonely adoration she had for the girl so many years ago.

"Daidouji-san?" A voice echoed a recess of her mind until it brought her back to room, and Setsuya was addressing her. "Pardon?" Tomoyo gave Setsuya a tired look, this meeting was slowly killing her, minute by hour. "We were wondering if you wished to inform us on plot changes you noted?" He gestured then took a seat in the president chair. "If there are any, we need them before shooting begins."

"Right," Tomoyo murmured and turned with a small apologetic smile. "The first couple are inconsequential, and can be easily changed while directing takes place. However, the screenwriter and I were consulting whether or not a different ending should be written."

"I believed the original was just fine," Setsuya cut in with a frown, "I don't see why this story can't be told as most people know it by." He gave a low growl, his pride slightly wounded by her suggestion.

"Yes," Tomoyo frowned back. She wondered what made Setsuya be such a pain whenever the held meetings with other people. "Everyone know this story as the heavenly being who came down to earth to bath in a certain spring..." She waved a slim hand about, "and a local merchant steals her robes so she cannot return to heaven. He convinces her to marry him, but this myth does not really have a told ending."

"Yes, go on." One executive gestured, but Tomoyo doubted he had even been listening to her at all.

"Well," Tomoyo said, "I think we should alter our ending." That was all she had and Tomoyo realized she hadn't given this idea much thought before the conference.

"Any thoughts?" Setsuya asked. He obviously was not in favor. A plot change meant more conferences like this and plenty disputes between the director and screenwriter. Meaning, no more staying nights at Tomoyo's apartment.

One older man nodded, giving Tomoyo an understanding look, "I'm in favor," he said, "I read the original screenplay and I think a different ending will be more profitable for a good box office hit." The other two men murmured words in agreement.

So it was settled. Tomoyo sank back into the leather chair, grateful that things seemed to be working right until Setsuya broke up the conversations with news that destroyed her mood.

"However," he said, "Since Miyazaki has left for another filming job in China, we're going to need a new producer."

Stillness stretched over many seconds and all rubbed their temples. This was going to be a long meeting.

>>

Tomoyo feverishly dropped her purse onto the small table. The table shook and the two coffee cups which sat there, quivered at the sudden disturbance. 

Setsuya Kumai, who was presently sitting at the table, looked up into two very cold and unfriendly eyes. "Tomoyo dear, you're here early." He gestured toward the seat opposite of him, a forthcoming smiled played on his lips.

Tomoyo considered cursing him with two words not often uttered, but her tiredness overwhelmed and she sat down. "A new producer?" She breathed heavily.

Setsuya gave her a curious look, "What? You need a paper-bag to breathe in or something?"

"Setsuya-kun, how could you do this to me? You never told me Miyazaki-san left for China!"

"And when did I have time to tell you?"

Tomoyo gaped, "Yesterday!" She flew her purse up and it fell back onto the table with a successful smack. "You were at my apartment all night!"

"Dear," Setsuya frowned, "I hardly think its appropriate to go over production notes while we're in the middle of having…"

Tomoyo hissed and craned her neck toward him, "You know what I mean…" She couldn't believe he was about to bring their bedroom activities up in a bustling café. In downtown Tokyo, for God's sake!

"Alright." Setsuya rubbed his neck. There was a slight pain there, almost matching the present one in his ass. "Setsuya…" Tomoyo warned. "We can't schedule time to make a revised ending _and_ hunt down a new producer!"

Setsuya's eyes darkened, "I don't really understand what's so wrong with _my_ ending." He said defensively, "Do you just suddenly hate my writing now?"

"No, of course not." She reached across the table to give her boyfriend's hand a pat.

"Then why?" He pressed onward the unsettled argument. "Can't you just be content with this?"

"I don't think so." Tomoyo slowly said, her teeth catching slightly on her lower lip, "This has been nagging me for days, Setsuya dear! I'm sorry."

Setsuya leaned forward and cupped her chin with his free hand, "Hey. Forget it. I'll… I will talk to the board about posting Producer interviews for Thursday." He gave her shoulder a reassuring rub and then settled back into the wicker chair. He sipped the coffee slowly, a look of frustration and exhaustion set in grim expression.

_He hates me now,_ Tomoyo sighed, _but I can't help wanting this so bad!_ Making a last minute change to the ending was going to dent easily into her relationship with Setsuya. At times, he seemed so bitter and too involved with the stream of life to fall in love… Then again—Tomoyo reached up and felt where he had lovingly cupped her jaw—maybe he wasn't.

>>

The doorbell rang several times before Sonomi thought to answer it. On such a gorgeous day, it was rare to see the Lady Daidouji in the house, but today she wanted to work in the home office. She opened the door to find a disgruntled Tomoyo standing placidly on the doormat. 

"Mother." Tomoyo sighed, "Why would anyone lock the door in the middle of the afternoon?"

Sonomi ushered her daughter inside the house and shut the door behind her. "Don't ask me," She dismissed the subject, "I thought the maid was going to answer the door. Where is the maid, anyway?"

"Maternity leave." The answer came from Tomoyo who slipped out of her sandals and threw her purse on a marble counter. "She's having a baby."

"Oh yes," Sonomi cocked her head while pondering, "I thought your secretary was having a baby…"

"She is." Tomoyo grumbled, "Miki's having a baby in eight months, and your maid's still on leave." She scurried past her mother into the kitchen, calling behind her, "Everyone's having a baby, except for me!"

On that note, Sonomi scampered after her daughter and stopped at the kitchen door, "You would need to marry Setsuya first." She pointed out rather sarcastically.

Tomoyo had been rummaging in the refrigerator, and pulled her head above the bottom door. She held a carton of milk in one hand and carrot in the other. "What makes you think I want a baby with Setsuya?"

"What?" Her mother asked incredibly, "Is something wrong? Are you unhappy with Kumai-san?"

"No, no." She was obviously tired and really didn't want to explain this to her mother. Who, after all, left Tomoyo's father having finding out she was pregnant.

"Oh. Come here Tomoyo." Sonomi got up and wrapped her arms around her, and Tomoyo held up the glass of milk out of the way.

Tomoyo gave a small smile, "Mother. I'm fine." She gave a small laugh when Sonomi slowly let go, "I'm only in Tokyo. You can visit me anytime you want to."

"That's what I'm worried about." Sonomi sighed. "I don't want you to be alone."

It was a touching moment. One of those mother-daughter scenes where both felt as if they finally understood each other. Tomoyo gulped down the rest of the milk, sharing a secret smile with Sonomi. "Hey," she said, "I still have Sakura-chan."

"Ooh! Sakura-chan!" Her mother burst into a fit, "How is she? Is the wedding plans arranged? Has she started looking for a dress? I want to help? LET ME HELP? Oh! They should have the wedding here, in Tomoeda! By the way, where is that Chinese boy taking her for the honeymoon. Do they need money?" She bustled out of the kitchen, into the next room, still throwing her delicate arms about with excitement.

Tomoyo watched her mother, wondering how she had ever coped with her strange antics. She remembered all too well, the day when she was forced to explain she couldn't use the company toys anymore. She had grown up. They had all grown up. She dazed off into this thought… Sakura-chan, Li-kun, Meiling and even Keroberos wasn't the same anymore. Tomoyo missed Tomoeda and she missed taping Sakura-chan capturing clow cards.

"I still have Sakura-chan," she reminded herself. Tomoyo bit off the carrot and chew gradually, "Don't I?"

>>

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**notes**: thank you—not applicable, Sakura-Star-66, KyteAura and Dana Daidouji—for reviewing! It means wonders to my broken soul… The movie plot is going to be a rendition of an old world-known story. If you have read **Ayashi no Ceres**, that manga is primarily based on the tale. 


	3. Now Hiring Producers

(disclaimer): CCS is owned by CLAMP.

vocab: **eetchi** – an exclamation used to declare 'perversion'.  
**hajimemashite** – a formality used when meeting someone for the first time.

* * *

**>> **

**Now Hiring Producers**

The sun rose all too quickly, Tomoyo's apartment windows catching bits of lights not blocked by the department buildings.

For once, she was thankful not to see Setsuya's sleeping body next to hers. The argument, along with the production changes, was putting a serious strain of their relationship.

The alarm clock ticked obsessively and she watched seconds-hand rotate around the others.

She must get up.

It was Thursday, they were starting interviews early. Tomoyo dreaded the extensive lines of producers and their small-time movie making nonsense she would have to face. Or worse; no lines at all.

Dragging her feet, limbs dangling at her sides, Tomoyo moved slowly from her apartment bedroom to her apartment bathroom. It was small, unmistakably clean with a wide mirror to reflect everything. Yes, everything. Even the darkening circles under her curling eyelashes.

"Damn." Tomoyo leaned her hands on the sink counter, bumping her head against the mirror in the process.

>>

"Number 20." 

Tomoyo looked over the file, her loving expression was fixed very carefully on her face. She looked to her left at Setsuya, and said sardonically, "Geez, twenty interviews are taking a goddamn fifty years to go through…"

"And not a single one decently sane!" Setsuya cut off his girlfriend.

The next man ambled into the office, his glasses frames hanging slightly off his nose. He took his seat quickly and then twitched.

Tomoyo exchanged wary looks with several co-workers, before peering at the man. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, yes." The man bowed his head. "Yes."

"Alright." Tomoyo sighed heavily, under a breath, "You listed a fair amount of productions here…"

"A fair?" The man interrupted with a quiet stutter, "Is that not enough?"

"No, it's fine."

"Oh. Okay, th-- thank you."

"You forgot to name which companies these films were with, and some titles I do not even recognize."

"Oh yes. Anime stuff… erm, mostly, I funded the voice cast and produced along with major, well sort of, companies…"

"Which are?"

"..small jobs, you know, beginning companies..."

This time Setsuya interrupted annoyed, and who could blame him. "What. Just what are they?"

The interviewee twitched slightly, looked left, then right, then muttered names under his breath which Tomoyo could faintly hear. She recognized them immediately, by sheer reputation of their business. Tomoyo looked astonished at the man who was sweating bullets. He bolted for the door, tie flying over his shoulder, the briefcase clutched at his stomach.

"What, what?" Setsuya looked at Tomoyo puzzling as did a few others.

Tomoyo rolled her eyes and tapped the speaker phone. "Miki?" she called, "Please send whoever's next out there..." She then turned to Setsuya with a horrified look. "Porn companies."

Setsuya looked to the chair that the client had fled from. "Eetchi." He snarled and Tomoyo stifled at giggle.

>>

"Number 24."

The client walked into the office with a very curious appeal. His sunglasses were hardly appropriate for inside but they gave off an rather exotic refinement to him.

"Hajimemashite. Please, take a seat." Tomoyo could hardly gesture, as her arms felt dead. The time was well into the afternoon. She prayed for a cup of tea and a bottle of aspirin.

The client took his seat after hanging his leather jacket on the back of the chair. He crossed his legs in a feminine manner and Tomoyo caught of glimpse of the dazzling red platform boots he wore. She gaped until her set designer gave her a nudge with his elbow.

"Right," she murmured, a bit dazed. "Nagakawa-san. What, please tell, what do you see production-wise where this movie could financially accomplish?"

"I have my own company."

"Yes…?" Tomoyo nodded very uncertain about this one.

His see-through shirt glittered as he moved his lips very seriously. "It's called… MAGIC-SPARKLE PLANET."

The board members froze. Tomoyo twisted her pen cap on and off nervously. Setsuya became ridged. Their overwhelming day had just been topped off with a pansy producer who wore glittery clothes and burst into his own alternate-universal renditions of movie magic.

"..and chibi-creatures will run around with their forefathers, speaking of enchanted woods where they may play…" He gestured madly while envisioning this although keeping an astounding straight face. The fabric trim on his shirt and jeans fluttered in the still air, and glitter rained down in tiny showers to the carpet floor.

"Thank you-" Tomoyo interrupted harsher than she intended. "Um, we'll be in touch."

"I hope we will." He finished all too seriously, and strolled out leaving specks of glitter in his wake. The costume designer looked a bit feigned. "Well," she said, "He was at least fashionable."

Tomoyo was writing furiously on her clipboard, reminding herself to get a new job. Headaches had that affect on her.

>>

Six interviews later and the entire day was wasted. Not a single client seemed willing, or sane enough to handle the fabrication of this film. A couple, were major motion directors which they couldn't afford to hire. 

"Setsuya. I'm going to the restroom." She whispered into Setsuya's ear. He nodded and flipped on the speaker phone. "Miki? Number 30."

"Hai," came the tired voice from the other end.

Tomoyo rubbed her forehead viciously as she walked out the office. _This was it_, she thought, _if this next client doesn't fit then I'm producing the goddamn film myself! _Of course, Tomoyo knew this was technically impossible. She had only worked as a small-time director for three years. She had no experience in producing her own films, and wished she had taken time to learn.

As she politely stomped through the empty hallway, Tomoyo turned the corner, only to collide her shoulder with another.

"Gomen." Tomoyo barely lifted her face. "I'm terribly sorry."

"It's of no consequence." A surprising tenor replied.

_What. _Tomoyo stopped. She did a double take and threw a glance at the man now striding toward the conference room. _Must be the next producer, _she thought, but then frowned, _Wait. What's of no consequence?_

The ladies room was bare, as Tomoyo did her business and washed her hands. Absentmindedly gazing at the wide mirror, noticing how old she seemed. Twenty-two years was not old at all, but this day, it seemed she had lived eternity. Tomoyo returned minutes later to the office, where the interview seemed to be coming along quite well.

Setsuya was concentrating on a piece of paper in front of him. As Tomoyo took her seat again, he leaned over and handed her the sheet.

"Look at this," he murmured and pointed to a rather extensive list printed out.

"Wow." Tomoyo breathed softly. "There has to be at least… twenty productions you've funded over the last five years!" She dazed over the impressive resume, while Setsuya continued the interview.

"We're nearly finished here," he said in his monotone voice. "Would you like to add anything?"

The man who sat very still in the chair, cleared his throat.

"Alright." he said.

The air turned very humid with motionless twitter.

"Although I've never offically started my own Production company, I carry my own name in write. I am quite financially stable with enough business experience to carry a movie like this and help it get somewhere. I have lived in England most of my life working with American movies, but return to Japan and Hong Kong once and a while to visit friends. I am fluent in Chinese, Japanese, English, Korean, French and a bit of Russian. I also prefer long walks on the beach and watching the sunrise."

_What does he think this is, a dating service? _Tomoyo glanced over the resume to receive a wink from a tall, blue-haired stranger. She gulped.

He was certainly tall, though Tomoyo couldn't exactly tell since he was sitting, with broad shoulders and long legs. His night-sky hair was layered and spanned just about his ears. The bangs were long and wispy, laying over his glasses and dark, mysterious eyes. He sat with confidence and though he was faced by an entire board of frustrated film makers, he seemed unnaturally calm.

Setsuya frowned, but then exchanged thanks and told him they'd call with news soon. The man abruptly got up to shake his hand, then turned to stand in front of Tomoyo.

Tomoyo stared at his hand, which was extended to her.

Setsuya made a small noise which jolted her back to reality. She jumped up and shook his hand enthusiastically, noticing how soft his fingers felt against her own.

He strode from the office, his shoulders seemed to not fit between the doorway, and Tomoyo instinctively fell back into the chair, sinking into its leather comforts. Chatter began around her, everyone seemed pleased with this last option and couldn't wait to get through the rest. Tomoyo barely heard the comments around her, her thoughts only concerning those shadowy eyes.

_What magnificent eyes_, Tomoyo thought, _Where have I seen that look before? Where have I felt that secretive presence…? _Knowing she didn't posses one magical bone within her, Tomoyo had an amazing ability to feel hidden personas of people without knowing them.

A sudden flash of insight made her grab for the resume. She scanned the paper with her eyes, finding what she wanted.

"Oh Lord." She gasped, the block print aligned with other personal information, highlighting her very deduction. "Eriol Hiiragizawa."

>>

* * *

**notes**: - I hope you will enjoy this rather hurried chapter that I put no thought into typing. Oh, and please don't nag about the interviews. I'm not in the film industry so whatever it is, I wouldn't know. 


	4. Improving the Employment

(disclaimer): …disclaimed. touché.

* * *

**>> **

**Improving the Employment**

The building's office elevator doors clinked open and a very tidy and impeccably well-designed new producer stepped out. Eriol Hiiragizawa examined his new premise with one keen eye. The office was in deco form, every desk and chair coordinated in bright colors that could have only been accomplished by a rather artsy interior designer. A slightly pregnant young girl sat at the receptionists desk, hardly noticed his arrival, for she was talking on a wireless headset.

Tomoyo who was standing across the room speaking in low tones with a lanky male adult, she casually tossed her braid over her shoulder before looking over at the elevator.

"Hiiragizawa." Tomoyo stated, her face void of emotion. Though cool on the exterior, she was nervously giddy inside. She caught herself staring into the new producer's penetrating eyes. She had expected this much, since they were young, Hiiragizawa had never missed an opportunity to stare into her soul.

"Daidouji-san. It's a pleasure seeing you again." He returned her greeting with an icy gaze. Setsuya didn't miss it. He was seated in his office chair, a laptop in front of him with Tomoyo standing to his left. They had been talking script changes when Hiiragizawa stalked across the room carrying an annoying charm of importance at his heel..

"You," Tomoyo choked out uneasily, "Why don't I introduce you to the cast and crew backstage," she put her hand on Setsuya's tensed shoulder. "Lunch at eleven-thirty, ne?"

"Ah, right." He replied and hunched back over his laptop.

"This way please." She beckoned Eriol to follow, while just catching his reply, 'Oh-kay' in a very mock-English tone. Tomoyo stifled a giggle.

Together, they walked in step toward the elevator Eriol had just arrived in, and while they waited, silence prolonged for many seconds.

Eriol cleared his throat, "So, that's Setsuya Kumai? The screenwriter?"

Tomoyo nodded. "He's a very talented writer."

"Ah. Yes, I've seen a couple of Sakura-chan's earlier films, that he's scripted."

Tomoyo cringed. She had momentarily forgotten how she and Eriol Hiiragizawa even knew each other. Sakura Kinomoto. If Sakura hadn't become the new mistress of the Clow Cards and Tomoyo hadn't been obsessed with her every move… then Eriol's name would mean nothing.

"How is Sakura lately?"

Her eyes peeled to the elevator key and Tomoyo's body reflexively rippled with annoyance. She should have known Eriol would always be watching over her and Sakura's lives. Therefore, he was perfectly aware of Sakura's relationship and doings.

But what Tomoyo answered was actually quite different than her thoughts, "Fine. She and Li-kun are going to be married."

The elevator rang, the light on the floor map flashed to the eighth floor. When the doors shifted open, the compartment was empty, allowing Tomoyo to put much space between herself and Eriol.

"What floor?"

"First," Tomoyo said, "The studio warehouse is a block away from this building."

Eriol's body shifted around so he could press the push button, highlighting the 1. Tomoyo watched, either with fascination or paranoia, Eriol's slack calmness and airy politeness he still seemed to possess after all the years.

"Do I have something on my face?"

Tomoyo's head shot up to look into the beautiful eyes. A hinted smile hid behind that narrow look, and Tomoyo's thought of 'beautiful' quickly dissolved into 'irritation'.

"Sumimasen," Tomoyo exhaled daintily, "I was distracted."

"I'm flattered."

"Not by you!" She snapped, a bit harsher than she had intended.

Eriol looked taken, his torso arching in a retreat. "Excuse me, Daidouji. It was merely a joke." Though, suddenly his eyes gleamed behind his square frames with another thought. "What was distracting you then, Daidouji-san? An unexpected vision of Sakura-chan in chiffon nightwear, perhaps."

The elevated had stopped, but the world and all Hell would suspend for Tomoyo's lashing.

"For _your _information, Hiiragizawa," Tomoyo hissed very softly, "Sakura and I are best friends and forever will be, whether you intend on meddling with magic between us or not! And as far as unexpected visions go.. I am already seeing one involving you—"

Eriol flashed a perverted grin.

"—falling a good, fifty stories to a concrete moving-trafficked street below!"

Bells abruptly rang then stopped. The elevator doors fluttered open and Tomoyo, with her pride hanging by its thread, flew from the booth and marched forward. Eriol followed, but made sure to walk a good twenty paces behind her.

>>

"TOMOYO-CHAN!" Wisps of gentle pink fabric curved and fluttered around Sakura's slim body as she rushed toward the warehouse door. Tomoyo, looking rather flustered, embraced the excited actress with a laugh.

"Sakura-chan." She forced a beaming smile despite her growing outrage at Eriol's remarks. "Watch your pins, dear."

"Mou, there nothing to worry about. We're beginning the scene where Thomas steals my celestial robes, right?"

"Yes"

"Still.." Sakura paused for a moment to brush a loose strand of hair from her vision. A slow blush crept over the makeup. "Are you sure I have to be… well, you know Tomoyo-chan.."

"Naked?"

"Hai." The blush had now fully deepened to a scarlet red.

"I think I'm going to shoot a couple different frames of your back." Tomoyo's eyes glittered playfully, "Or should we do a full frontal?"

"HOE!" Sakura jumped, cuffing her palms against her slender cheeks. She looked ready to faint but instead she retorted, "You can't do that! Syaoran is going to see this… He'll…" she couldn't find the words to explain the horror, "He would see everything!"

"Right." Tomoyo nodded very seriously now, "You two are staying apart until your wedding night, right?"

"Hai," Sakura leaned forward to whisper softly, "It's clan business really. I think if it were up to Syaoran we would have done it years ago. But…"

"It is Syaoran's mother, isn't it?" Tomoyo nodded, understanding, "She's very scary, isn't she?"

"Hoe—" Sakura's eyes widened, "I was so frightened when I had to meet the tribe leaders, let alone the Head of the Li Clan. I think she's mostly grateful because I'm the Mistress of the Clow. Most of them are willing to overlook me because that means the cards will be part of the Li Clan again… His mother seems very protective of me. I think that means she likes me."

"Who wouldn't like you, Sakura-chan. You'll surely be alright."

"Of course! Despite that last night, when Syaoran and I were watching a movie, and he looked about ready to jump me!" Giggles erupted.

Sakura eyes widened and Tomoyo could tell she was picking up a new aura. His aura. She pointed, "ne— who is that?"

Tomoyo looked over her shoulder. As expected, Eriol had caught up with her and now seemed deep in conversation with the set designer. Though his back was to her, Tomoyo knew that distinctive beige blazer from anywhere. "Him?" She played clueless to Sakura.

"Yes." Sakura pursed her lips together, thinking very hard, "I can feel a really strong aura around him… that isn't. wait, no—it couldn't be…"

"Ne— Hiiragizawa." Tomoyo called loudly behind her, "Stop hiding behind Koshikawa and come see Sakura-chan."

"I was merely being polite." He said airily as she strode over. Tomoyo coughed some rather explicit names that only Sakura was naïve enough to miss. However, Eriol who was just too smart, gave her a long stare that held the universe.. that could stop time.. that seemed so inviting that any sincere, lyrical idiom could describe it.

"Eriol-kun! When did you get here?" Sakura jumped to hug him in excitement. Eriol, who even had his boyish moments, stood wary and not knowing how to hold the warm, sensual girl clinging to his jacket.

"It's wonderful to see you again, Sakura." Eriol's voice lifted as she let go, "and how is my little descendant?"

"Syaoran-kun?" Sakura asked, then held up her hand to his face. "Ne—look!"

"He proposed?" Eriol's expression of fake surprise nearly fooled Tomoyo.. nearly. "Why that was a rather daring step for my cute little.."

"Yea, yeah. Descendant." Tomoyo cut in as she grasped Sakura's hand impatiently. "Sakura-chan," she said sweetly, "I think we should begin shooting.."

"Oh—hai, hai. Tomoyo." She gave Eriol a friendly gaze, "Will you be staying Eriol?"

"I hope so, Sakura."

As Tomoyo led the clueless actress away, Eriol grinned. This was exactly the type of vacation he had needed. A visit to the Clow Mistress, to rag on his cute little descendant.. And for some time, puzzle over the amber-eyed beauty who, underneath her graceful facade, was desperately looking for happiness.

"Hiiragizawa?" Eriol's mind snapped from the thoughts, to take in the woman standing before him, arms impatiently crossed.

"Daidouji?" He faintly replied.

She took one step toward him then turned around again. "Would you please follow me?"

>>

Tomoyo led Eriol into a small, stifling office. Blinds shut out the florescent warehouse lights, and a ceiling fan whirled above at slow second intervals. Eriol couldn't decide whether it was the temperature of the room, or what, that suddenly made Tomoyo Daidouji appear so sensual in the mellow illumination.

"I hope you don't mind my taking you here," Tomoyo started out slowly, "We need to talk."

That look in her eyes, so unreadable, made Eriol flinch. _What? _He thought, bewildered, _Is__ she going to profess her undying love for me?_

"We need to talk…"

Eriol drew in a small breath, anticipation brought a small blush to his cheeks.

"…about how we're working together!" She finally blurted out. Bluntness was sometimes, not Tomoyo's strong point.

Eriol, meanwhile, tried sucking the blush out into his face. "Why," he said, turning away to open and close a filing cabinet nearby, "I thought we got along famously, Daidouji."

"Yes," she mused, "as famous as cats and dogs."

He gave her a rather puzzling smirk with a raised eyebrow.

"Look," she sighed, tapping her pink nails on the desk table, "While you're practically our only hope for finishing this, I'm stuck with you. So how about this? I'm going to go direct," She moved her hands in mock sign language, saying this slowly. "And your going to go sit in your new office and writes checks out to our set and costume designers."

Eriol gave a pout, "Now, that doesn't seem much fun..."

Noticing the humor, Tomoyo grinned, "Who said it was going to be fun? If you excuse me, Hiiragizawa-kun, I have a film to direct."

"Ah yes, and I have checks to write."

"Wonderful to know we cleared up these conditions."

The two sealed the deal with a firm handshake, Eriol's hand clasped hers a bit longer than intended, and they left the small office going different directions.

"Daidouji-san!" A man called, "You're needed now!"

"Coming!" Tomoyo walked toward the set, perfectly aware of the two shadowed-eyes casting a burning look into the back of her skull. Eriol Hiiragizawa never missed an opportunity to stare into her soul. Never.

>>

* * *

**notes**: - ooh wondi-ful. another chapter to claim to my fame-dome! I'm terribly happy that I've been able to keep writing these chapters so fast. Expect chapter five soon. ""edited comment as of 4/9/05"" SOON. xP 


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